Tears
by Kristopher Stanton
Summary: The Goddess's point-of-view upon an exchange between Alanna and George. PierceFic 2008 entry. Post-Song of the Lioness; Pre-The Immortals. Completed. Please Review.


Thick snowflakes are falling like a thick veil and quickly gathering on the ground in a clean layer of white. A fallen branch, hidden by the blinding snow, causes her to stumble. She catches herself with the grace of one that is use to falling often. Her hands tighten the itchy, knitted scarf that is wrapped around her neck and face to protect against the bone-chilling wind.

Tears stream down her frozen face.

The freezing temperatures continue to drop and chill her to the core. Shivering, her teeth chatter. Not from the pain the cold brings, but from her fear of the cold. She is terrified of the cold and detests it with her every fiber. Yet, she moves on. There have been colder situations she has been in.

Snow, hindering her line of vision to a mere yard in front of her, whirls around her and the trees like tiny diving birds of prey. The wind, which is succeeding in aiding the snow in confusing her of where she is going, tugs at her clothing. It hunts for an opening, any opening, in which it can reach her skin and chill her body. There is no such opening. She ignores the wind's futile attempts and stumbles onward, not paying attention to where she is heading nor caring in the least.

Night draws near and the snow slows, though it does not quite stop. She stumbles upon a small clearing. A fallen tree, covered by a thick layer of snow, rests in the midst of the clearing. Brushing the snow off the fallen tree, she rests on it. Her arms fold across her chest tightly, as if she is afraid of falling to pieces if she lets go. Misery shows clearly in her face.

The tears have frozen into icy streaks on her face, though they continue to fall.

A crack, like that of a heavy, booted foot stepping down and breaking a fallen tree limb, echoes faintly throughout the clearing. Her hand instinctively reaches for a sword at her waist which she is not wearing. She rises and takes a fighting stance, feet shoulder width apart and balanced evenly on her feet, awaiting any fate that might enter the clearing to meet her.

The light of a lantern shines in the clearing and its bearer, a man but a few years older than her, enters into the clearing. At the sight of her, he sighs loudly in relief and rushes to embrace her. With a loud clatter, the lantern falls to the ground; the light from it extinguishing.

She relaxes in his embrace. Her arms wrap around his waist, holding him close, while she buries her face in his shoulder.

The tears, forgotten in the possible threat of danger, start anew.

His face is in her hair where he can smell her distinct, clean scent. Old iron and worn leather from the practice courts. Horse from the stables. Dusty parchment and ink from the library.

He lifts his head from her hair, places a hand beneath her chin, and raises her face so that he can look her in her tear-filled eyes. His other hand draws forth a handkerchief from a pocket to wipe her face with before he wraps his arms around her again. "Shh now darlin', you're fine now. I've gotcha." His voice is loving and filled with concern. It has the slightest of accents.

The tears slow to an almost stop.

"I can't do this, George." She sniffs. "I'm just not any good at mothering. I don't know what I'm doing!"

With her still wrapped in his arms, he rests on the fallen tree and sits her on his lap. She tries to push him away from her, but he only chuckles and tightens his arms around her. She does not want to be treated like a child, as this feels.

Sighing, she gives up and rests her shoulder on his shoulder again. "Pages and squires aren't taught how to raise children."

"And the King of the Rogue is?" His eyes twinkle in merriment. Teasing her always makes him happy.

He cradles her in his arms gently and rocks her. "All we can do is try our best. Jon and Thayet are in the same boat as us." They sit in companionable silence, wrapped in each other's arms and their own thoughts.

I turn silently to leave them; my feet leaving no track in the deep snow. My favored one is with her husband again and safe for now. She managed to conquer her three greatest fears years ago. There is not a doubt in my mind that she can learn to raise her child, and the next two on the way that she does not know about yet, to the best of her abilities.

There is a whisper of a sound, like wind moving through tree tops, growing faintly in my ear. A prayer from a worshiper somewhere else in the world. I smile. Closing my eyes, I slowly dissolve and leave to help my follower.

The tears are gone.


End file.
